Over the past few years, I've avoided talking about Brexit, either online or in person.
The referendum nearly three years ago ended up with me being carted off in an ambulance to hospital with a heart attack.
Which ever way you voted (and I'm firmly in the 'Remain' camp), this whole debacle and the politicians' terrible handling of it has left everyone fuming.
And still it goes on, and it will do for years and years to come, whatever the outcome. We are a divided nation, although we have more in common than we think.
People are angry and intolerant and quick to take offence about everything, particularly online. It's as if being respectful and kind have been consigned into the bin of history, along with the Sinclair C5 and clackers.
I'm in Sir Oliver Letwin's West Dorset constituency. I had hoped his intervention in the Brexit pantomime might have sorted things out once and for all.
Oh no, it didn't. And, look, behind him are a bunch of lying, cheating colleagues jostling for position to bring us ever further down into the quicksand that the majority of the population did not vote for.
These days, I can only keep sane by going native every day to find solace in the little things. Small details like the early spring sunlight peeping through branches on a morning walk to the top of a hill.
The vivid red of a postbox against a bright green grass verge.
The way raindrops collect on the bars of a field gate.
Exquisite birdsong, damp and springy lichen on thick-set tree trunks. Squelching in deep mud in my wellies, the smell of cow dung on the fields, the feel of the rough bark of a beech on my cheek when I go to hug it.
Violets hiding in the hedgerows, primroses smiling in the grass.
The dog nuzzling up to me with a toy in her mouth, wanting me to throw it. Freshly-washed clothes billowing out with gusto on the line.
Small joys in an increasingly mad world. To be breathed in and soaked up before anyone can tell you otherwise.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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